


The Highest Apple

by sfiddy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Awesome Jane Foster, F/M, Historical References, Jane Foster Loves Science, Rating May Change, WIP, some not, some references are real
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-07-05 12:59:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15864114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sfiddy/pseuds/sfiddy
Summary: Raised in a monastery school, orphaned Jane Foster is fascinated by light, lenses, and the movements of the world around her.  During a solar eclipse, her mentor hosts a family of patrons that unexpectedly expand her horizons.  She makes the choice to leave the familiar stones of her adoptive home for the wider world beyond.





	1. Be Attentive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [audreyii_fic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreyii_fic/gifts), [halfpenny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfpenny/gifts).



> I started this story a year or two ago. It's heavily influenced by the Jesuit education philosophy and Stonyhurst College's observatory. I've worked on it, left, and come back again more times than I like to admit, but as a nod to the "Two Cakes" mentality, I want to send it into the world and maybe get some feedback to fuel it further.
> 
> Inspired by a song by Runrig: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Oa4HoEZM8M
> 
> But the day and the hour  
> Will surely come  
> To take the highest apple  
> From the knowledge tree

Chapter 1 Be Attentive

1863

There was only smoke-- smoke and bits of paper that flew into her nose, making her splutter harder. She’d managed to shove a bit of her dress up to her face to cover her nose and mouth, but it didn’t help for long. She couldn’t feel the heat here, but the smoke was enough. 

She didn’t even cough anymore. That was fine. She was tired anyway.

…

Wet. Wet all over and a terrible burning in her chest and she couldn’t even swallow the cool water dribbling into her mouth.

“She’s rousing!”

“Keep her quiet, and in the name of the Holy Mother, don’t tell her what happened. She’ll know soon enough.”

Creaking door. Bitter taste.

“Now you just swallow a bit, girl. Go on. Let it wash your mouth out and then you sleep.”

So she did.

…

After a few days in a strange bed, drinking smelly teas and being gently handled and kindly spoken to, the girl was given clothes and a good warm coat of dyed wool. The clothes were rougher than she was used to, but inquisitive six year old girls in giant stone halls with stained glass windows casting rainbows round their feet do not, as a rule, fuss about clothes.

She peered up at the veiled woman walking with her. “Where is my family?” Her voice croaked a bit, and it still hurt to talk.

The woman looked nervous. “I’m taking you to see the abbot.”

“Is he nice?” The girl hopped a bit to keep up, for the woman with clutched hands walked faster now.

“He is a wise and godly man.” The woman bowed her head and said no more, so the girl followed suit, though it was hard to keep her top half still while her bottom half was skipping.

The woman stopped at a heavy oak door and bowed deeply before knocking.

The girl jumped back when the door opened a crack. Whispers. The door opened fully.

“My Lord Abbot,” a man spoke with a voice as rusty as her own. “The girl that arrived to us.”

The girl stepped into the room after being nudged in. She craned her neck far enough to cause her to cough again, but not before catching a glimpse of a bald head ringed in red hair bent over parchment and a spray of stained quills.

“What is your name, girl?”

She stopped coughing. No one had asked yet, oddly enough. “Jane. Jane—I forget.”

With a loud scrape, the man pushed away from his desk and Jane watched the edges of his robes flap as he stepped into sight. “That will not do, little Jane. We shall have to find a name for you. Where are you from?”

Shrug. 

“Your mother’s name?”

Shrug.

He chuckled and removed his spectacles to wipe them with a cloth tucked in his sleeve. “Do you know where you are, Jane?”

Carefully, the girl looked around the room. Books lined a wall, but not all of them. There were medicines, too, but they did not have many patients. She had not seen the kitchens, but she had eaten. She’d heard many people, but they did not mill about the long halls. There were candles, but also many windows of both clear and colored glass, and she longed to trace her fingers over the seams to see how they fit together.

The man wore a cross.

“Is this a church?”

He smiled. “That’s very good, but not quite correct.” He handed her a stamped bit of wax on a piece of parchment. 

Jane ran her fingertips over the grooves and examined the starburst and letters. “Is this a word?”

“No,” he corrected. “It is a symbol of our order, the Society of Jesus. This is Stonyhurst College, a seat of learning and enlightenment for the greater glory of God.”

Jane saw the milky light filtering through the window. It was daylight, though she wasn’t sure how that was different from enlightenment. 

“Where is my family?”

The Abbot knelt down, his joints creaking with the effort. “You will never want for shelter or food. We will ensure a place for you in the community of the Lord, and will wish you well should you choose another path.” The Abbot smoothed Jane’s hair and smiled gently. 

“Therefore, you will be known as Jane Foster, and will serve in the Lord’s house alongside us, for we are your family now.”

…

As the early bells announced morning prayers the next day, the wax seal was no more than a wet, sticky ball in her hand. She had clutched it in her fist all night.

…

1864

Jane Foster was no good at scrubbing floors. She scrubbed in strange patterns that left odd streaks across the stones that caused the students to trip.

She was no good at serving, for she was distracted by the flashing lights through the stained glass and, more than once, used the abbot’s crystal goblet to alter the path of a particularly bright beam.

She was no good at cleaning the windows, because she spent her time watching the way shapes were altered through the warps in the glass pieces.

She was quite good at polishing silver and, after a few months, the abbot himself allowed her to work in his apartments at polishing the pewter and few pieces of silver he had, and he admired her deft hand. The brothers delivered pieces from the sanctuary to her to clean.

She was quite good at assisting the apothecary, and could follow intricate instructions on how to prune or weed, and how he liked the stems trimmed and tied for drying.

She was no good at scrubbing pots. She was no good with the animals. She was almost helpful, but not quite useful, to the cook. She was quite good at helping the librarian where she could, and had a quiet reverence for the inkpots and quills that inhabited the same spaces as the books he did not allow her to touch yet.

.

It amused the mathematics master to teach little Jane her figures, and he happily credited his own talents when she learned her arithmetic swiftly. He thought himself exceptional when she attempted simple algebra and, in her babyish hand, scraped Newtonian formulas for motion onto a slate.

That his actual students were struggling with Euclid could not possibly be his own failing. However, the mathematics master had to admit to a particular curiosity about the girl when Jane held up his best prism and directed the resulting rainbow to the pure white canvas upon his wall. He was disquieted when Jane then seized a series of lenses, jabbering excitedly, and proceeded to focus the beam this way and that into a long blur, then a perfect, tiny spot so round and bright that his eyes watered to look on it.

He ordered the girl back to her chores for the day when the canvas began to smoke. 

And so her seventh year was a comedy of errors.

…

Jane quietly polished the silver case, first with the oiled rag, then with the clean one, methodically removing all visible traces of darkening, then sweeping away any smears of the light oil. As she finished the latch for the case, a soft knock came at the abbot’s door and he waved at her to answer.

She cracked the door open. “The Abbott is in study.”

The slim monk, Brother Perry, nudged his cowl back. “I came to see you, Jane.” He held up a piece of jagged, angular glass. “Do you know what this is?”

Jane opened the door wider and took the piece. Her fingers knew the shape. “It is a glass from the North side window of the main hall, the very bottom corner near the edge of the robe the angel with the scepter wears.”

He blinked. “Indeed, the very one. Can you see the problem?”

Jane turned the glass over in her hands, examining the clear piece with the flecks of dark lead clinging to the edges. It had not been broken out, or it would have raw edges that could cut her. She scratched the soft lead with her fingernail and bits of it flaked away. She looked over her shoulder at the abbot, who nodded. 

Jane looked back at Brother Perry. “The glass is not where it should be.” She held up the glass and pointed to the flaking lead. “I think it fell out.”

Brother Perry’s lips twitched into a smile. “Brother Abbot, with your permission, I should like to teach little Jane to assist me in repairing the ornaments in Stonyhurst. The winds this winter have rattled loose many of the leads and her careful hands would be a great help.”

Jane stared, wide eyed, silently begging permission to touch these beautiful winking fragments and do more than clean the grime from them. 

“Are you certain, Brother Perry? The girl is attentive to her work, but has a rather active imagination and tends to flights of fancy.”

Brother Perry tucked his hands into his long sleeves. “Oh, Brother Abbott, I was rather hoping so.”

…

1869

In clear block script, Jane Foster dated Brother Perry’s diagram and carefully rolled the large paper sheet before handing it to him for safekeeping. Despite remaining quite small, she was still clumsy and awkward after growing much too fast in her thirteenth year.

He smiled. “In a few months it will pass. Then you’ll be stronger and surer than you were before. You’ll have no need of my help handling the lenses.”

Jane harrumphed and returned to the fixed spectroscope. “If it weren’t for the stairs, I shouldn’t need help at all now.” A few adjustments and a series of colored slashes were visible, and she began sketching and measuring. 

“Now now, Jane. I mean well.” Brother Perry chuckled to himself. The bells rang for prayers and the pair quickly tidied their work in preparation for devotions. “You should be pleased, though. You’ve seen enough pupils here fling themselves about like scarecrows to know it happens to all. It will pass, child. At least your wits have not left you.”

“My wits need a better focusing lens and all the spectrum collected since we received the spectroscope. Have you the treatise by Bunsen and Kirchoff?”

…

Over the following year, Jane filled half a shelf at the library with her measurements and recorded spectra. There was an undeniable shift in the colors of the sun’s spectrum since the first hazy scribbles from more than a decade ago, and Jane was determined to understand the relationship between the blurry wobbles in the projections and the spectrum. 

So here she was, late in the night, polishing new lenses with ever finer dust. They had to be perfect, and now that she could lift and place them with confidence, she would make sure not even a fleck of dust lay between her and an improved view of the heavens.

Jane resisted rubbing her tired eyes and caught a low echo of the Matins choir. She tugged off her gloves and stood, meaning to tender her prayers privately.

It was so very dark. Only a sliver of moon glinted like a sickle in the sky. It was a clear, cold night as well, and so Jane went to stoke the fire. She prodded the fire and a lump of log broke away, exposing a yellow-hot coal, rippling in the waves of heat. She watched as the glow darkened to orange and finally black, locking away the bright coals to smolder under a new crust.

Jane sat up and gasped, hands trembling, then ran to the worktable.

A full day later, Brother Perry lifted his assistant from the table and shook his head. The entire observatory was in ruins, but her notes and sketches were clear. The pupil had again managed to teach the master.

…

1870

Jane marveled at the bustle in the observatory. There were actual guests at the school, several who personally expected time in the observatory, and no less than three major observation events to finish preparing for, and hardly more than five total minutes to do them all in. Solar eclipses were fickle things, after all.

Brother Perry ushered a man into the workroom as Jane finished assembling the equipment for another photograph. 

“Mr. De La Rue, may I introduce Miss Jane Foster, special assistant to the observatory. Jane, Mr. De La Rue is doing some observations on the spots and is interested in your charting.”

…

1872

Brother Perry patted Jane’s heaving back helplessly, knowing himself to be both the cause and comfort to her distress.  
“I cannot tell you how sorry I am, Jane. Had I known, I would never had allowed him such freedom.”

Jane’s fingers traced the pages* on the table. “How? How could he do such a thing? Take our work?”

Brother Perry sighed. “Laborare est orare. Work undertaken for God, not ourselves. We will continue, for knowledge of Him is gained for Him. We will use the tools we have to expand our minds and understand the heavens.”

Jane felt her spine stiffen and she set her jaw. “If the work of our tools can be stolen, then I shall make better tools.”

…

1873

Jane stood aside as the visitors assembled their filters and prisms into the housings and Brother Perry deftly corrected their work. A group of gentlemen astronomers, an Erik Selvig and his fellows, had gained permission from Brother Perry and the Abbot to use the telescope for observations during a rare total solar eclipse over Britain. A few other men lingered nearby in the observatory but, as they did not appear  
scholarly, Jane did her best to ignore them. 

Two of the men were young, one as golden as the heavenly choir angels in the leaded glass of the chapel and Jane felt herself blush when he grinned and laughed. The other was dark-haired and as pale as the abbey librarian, but sharp-eyed as a hungry crow, his gaze roving the room as if mentally cataloging it. The older man refused to speak to anyone but Erik Selvig, and then only in a foreign tongue.

Minding her manners and trying to not disgrace herself or Brother Perry, Jane worked as quietly as she could, taking notes and adjusting bits along the shelves. She did her best to avoid attention, but was unwilling to allow strangers too near to her ledgers and charts. Her new work, unfinished, was locked away in the row of heavy cases along the wall. 

The friendly, gray-headed Mr. Selvig took Brother’s Perry’s hand. “Stephan, I cannot thank you enough for this. And you are quite sure of  
your calculations?”

Brother Perry smiled and inclined his head towards Jane. “My dear Erik, my best assistant did the calculations herself. You have nothing to fear. We shall have a perfect view of the eclipse.”

The man nodded at her. “Then we shall proceed bravely. Wish us luck!”

Jane gave a slight bow in acknowledgement, and felt a tickle at the edge of her thoughts. When she turned, the eyes of a hungry crow were upon her.

She looked away quickly.

.

The sky was beginning to darken—a strange darkening, unlike twilight for the shadows grew no longer, only fragmented and sharp. Time seemed to snag on some force whose hold became more and more compelling. The observatory grew very dark and the shuffling excitement among the visitors grew to fever pitch. There was no idle chatter, only clipped phrases and barked shorthand followed by a confirming repeat for accuracy.

In this dizzying cacophony, Jane’s heart pounded and she moved nearer to the room’s edge where a crack of thin light was visible. Three men were near, the other visitors, and she no longer cared for manners. Too many voices and a space rendered unrecognizable by the strange phenomenon were chipping at her composure. Jane gathered her skirts in an effort to pass through the doorway quickly but stumbled in her haste, bouncing off the laughing angel. She did not fall to the stone floor however, and when she looked up, the crow’s eyes blinked at her. 

Otherworldly light illuminated the crow’s pale eyes, and for a moment he looked like one of the angels in the windows—not the ones in the heavenly choir, but the ones that carried swords. An archangel with black wings.

“Pardon me!” Jane blurted, pushing away from the gentle grip. She brushed past them all and walked quickly towards more comforting ground.

…

Willing her embarrassment away, Jane assisted in copying and organizing observations from the eclipse into several books for later use. All had to be prepared in triplicate for now, and likely again later for her own work.

Footsteps that were not Brother Perry’s approached. 

Erik Selvig cleared his throat. “Miss Foster, there is nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve seen grown men reduced to tears by an eclipse. It’s a strange sight.”

“Grown men cry at anything they do not understand.” She immediately bit her tongue. “No stranger than the migration of spots on the sun’s meridian, or the rainbows hidden in daylight.” 

Selvig chuckled. “You’re not wrong, on either account. Your youth and the day’s strains are more than good reason for a moment’s unease. I’m happy to forget it, but you must promise to do something for me.”

Jane looked up from her work cautiously. “Do what?” She held the books tighter. No one would steal her work again.

His smile turned very serious. “Continue your work. Whatever it is, it must be brilliant.”

…

The line of carriages were loaded with luggage as the abbot, Brother Perry, and the observatory assistants wished safe travels to the visitors. Jane watched as their cases were strapped down onto springy platforms and hoped they would protect the filters and lenses within.

Erik Selvig and Brother Perry laughed and shook hands. “Stephen, my thanks again for your patience with us. I know we upset your work but with any luck, these first clear images will help us understand coronal structure.”

Brother Perry embraced his friend. “Deus est illuminat. Knowledge is a gift from God.” 

Jane turned when she heard the heavy wooden doors of the college open. The three men-- the elder, the angel, and the crow--joined the scientists and handed off their luggage. 

“Stephen, Lord Abbot, on behalf of the Odinson family I would like to express their thanks for your kind hospitality.”

The abbot nodded. “It was our pleasure to share table. Please tell them how deeply we appreciate their generous patronage and would be pleased to offer access to the college or the observatory whenever they wish.”

Erik Selvig spoke to the three men in a language Jane did not know. The eldest Odinson rumbled a reply gruffly and went to board a carriage, leaving Selvig chuckling softly.

“Well, Mr. Odinson wastes no words, but that is the Norwegian way, I suppose. He said he did not care for the eclipse, but he would consider supporting the observatory in conjunction with his support for the Royal Astronomical Society.”

Brother Perry tilted his head. “But he has no interest in the work?”

“Ah, he is a man who appreciates the benefit to mankind, to be sure, but he also appreciates potential. Through patronage of the arts and sciences, the Odinson family has swift access to advances that might benefit their business interests. His sons are expected to learn this lesson so he wanted them to observe the process.”

Jane edged around a carriage to watch the last case of lenses being loaded. She was pleased when it was set in the carriage rather than on the luggage rack. When she looked to where Brother Perry was speaking with Selvig, she noticed that the golden angel stood dutifully by, but the crow was gone. When she turned to look for him, she slipped on a wet paver and felt her feet rush out from under her.

But she did not fall. Black wings bore her up and Jane found herself looking at the crow. Her stomach did a strange twist as she looked into those strange pale eyes.

“As much as I enjoy these meetings,” he said in lightly accented English, “You might be more careful of your footing once I’m gone.” When she was steady, he released her and raised his hat. “I’m afraid I must leave you to your own devices now, Jane Foster.”

Before she could speak, he rejoined his golden brother and they climbed into the carriage with the elder Odinson. Erik Selvig and his astronomers carried their last few items with them and climbed into their carriages, waving genially as colleagues do. Jane handed wrapped sandwiches to them through the window.

“Many thanks, Miss Foster. Your calculations were flawless and I look forward to seeing more of your work in the future.” 

Jane felt her face redden worse than usual, still off balance from her near fall and the interaction afterwards.

As the carriages pulled away, Selvig called from the window. “Don’t forget, Stephen! The transit of Venus! We’ll return then!”

Brother Perry laughed. “I await the day!” 

As the carriages clopped away, Jane allowed herself to glance at the one in front.

The crow was watching her, and continued until the carriage turned and was lost among the hills. 

That night, and for many months, Jane’s dreams were filled with falls broken by the safety of strange wings and the fascinating, unsettling gaze of her crow.

…

Early 1874

Jane Foster nudged the edge of a heavy stand into place and adjusted the silk lining before slipping on her work gloves. She had stitched the fine kid leather earlier that year herself, and hoped they would be the last pair she had to make for some time. At eighteen years of age, she rather suspected she would not outgrow these before the fingertips wore through. 

“Brother Perry, I think I’m ready here!”

Despite the whitening of his tonsured head, Brother Perry’s step was still steady and sure. “Make sure the silk is tight, Jane. We don’t want it to slip and wind up cracking this one. It’s your best lens yet.” 

Jane listened as the footsteps from the storage cellar stairs grew closer until Brother Perry finally entered the room, carefully cradling a wooden box.

“Well, it’s had its rest. Now it’s time to wake up!” He set the box carefully on the heavy wooden table and opened to latch, taking his time to open the lid.

Jane flexed her fingers. “Wish me luck!” She wrapped her hands around the heavy glass and lifted while Brother Perry held the box. Her gloves helped her grip the perfectly smooth surface as she settled it onto the silk, then pulled the silk away from underneath it so the glass rested in the heavy wood and iron base.

Brother Perry adjusted a clamp into place. “I would tell Brother Ambrose of this momentous occasion, but I think he would not appreciate being awoken before midnight to see us tighten clamps.”

Jane laughed. “Ambrose is a fine smith, but I think you’re right.” She started turning the clamps. “He has to be up in a few hours to heat his fires. He would not thank you for an early start.

Once each clamp was tightened, then tightened again, they double checked the assembly.

“Jane, I believe we have it centered. Here, you should see for yourself.” Perry handed Jane a straight-edge and a curve tool. She watched the way the light reflected against the metal, the golden light curving to kiss the flat dull edge, then diving back up the metal.

“It’s ready.” She said simply, and together they lifted the assembly into position. After another hour of adjustments, they covered it over with curved sheets of metal and tightened it all into place.

Brother Perry ran a hand lovingly over the cranks and controls. “I cannot wait to write to Father Secchi of this, Jane. The new disks will elevate our work, and with your new lenses and charts, we will catalogue the color and composition of the heavens.” 

Jane smiled softly. “I would understand better. Is that not enough?”

Brother Perry looked at her over his spectacles. “Oh, my child. For you, I think not.” 

...

*Warren De La Rue was a pioneer of astronomical photography and, indeed, did publish and collaborate on work performed mostly in the 1860’s defining the composition of the sun. Liberty has been taken for the sake of storytelling.


	2. Be Reflective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jane enters the world.

Mid 1874

With quick steps, Jane hurried to find Brother Perry. He never missed his prayers, and it was not unusual to find him on his knees in the midst of his work if he was not able attend in the chapel. On many occasions, Jane had simply taken whatever was in his hands when the bells called him to prayer and handed them back once he rose from the floor, seamlessly continuing their work.

Today, as the sounds of chants and singing faded into echoes off the stones, she found him near the Abbot’s chambers. He raised a finger, asking for her patience, and she dutifully bowed and waited. As soon as he raised his head, she took his elbow to help him stand.

“Thank you, Jane. I fear my knees do not approve of my devotions as they once did.”

Jane dusted off his robes and tutted at him. “If you stayed near the cushions I made for you, perhaps they could keep up with you.”

“I try, but I had some matters to discuss with the abbot. I’ll stay nearer to my luxuries next time.”

“Is it about the transit of Venus? Have the guests arrived?”

Brother Perry patted Jane’s hand. “Soon, but not yet. Their rooms are prepared, though. I only expect Erik and one or two of his friends from the Royal Society. They are anxious to make observations to present at the first meeting in their new headquarters in London.”

Jane nodded. “That sounds so exciting. Can you imagine, a place for the learned to gather, present, and discuss their findings? An active library, charts, spectra, and all the acquired information and calculations stored in one place? Such a place would be wonderous.” She paused to chew on the idea, and wondered if the Odinson family might be regular visitors of such a place. 

Dismissing the idea, she shoved her braid aside and smiled. “But we have that here, not to mention our telescope, is that not so?”

Brother Perry nodded. “We do indeed.” 

Though Jane was accustomed to long silences while they worked, there was a strange heaviness in the quiet as they prepared lens housings and fresh paper for the coming work. The usual chit chat and excitement seemed swept from the room like dry leaves from a branch in autumn.

After Vespers, Brother Perry returned from his prayers as Jane finished installing the plates to hold the papers for the next day’s work. 

“Jane, I never fail to be amazed and humbled by your work. Your measurements and refinements to the disks, our very maps of the sun and planets, have made so much other work possible. Other observatories base their work on ours, and the apprentices owe much of their advancements to you.”

Jane paused. Her hands were stained with grease and she dared not touch the perfect papers by accident. “I—I am grateful for the praise, but I am your assistant. It is my purpose, isn’t it?”

Brother Perry handed Jane a cloth to wipe her hands and sat on a rung of the ladder that led to the telescope loft. “I needed to pray before I could speak to you, Jane. May the lord forgive my arrogance, but I had hoped we would slip the abbot’s notice and could remain as we have been these last ten years.”

Jane cleaned her fingers, feeling her insides beginning to twist. Brother Perry lowered his head and clasped his hands.

She gripped the rag. “Tell me what has happened. Please, I beg you.”

“The abbot called me. It was, as I said, about the arrival of Erik Selvig and his friends.” He looked up. “But it was also about you, my dear Jane.”

“Why?”

Brother Perry’s jaw flexed. “What is it you wish from this world, Jane? And do not recite your prayers or lessons to me. What do you desire in your heart?”

Jane swallowed. In all her years, she’d hardly thought of herself beyond the walls of Stonyhurst and its stained glass. She’d plotted the craters on the moon, the temperature of the sun’s surface, and helped uncover the chemistry of its furious heat. She traveled the heavens through her lenses.

“I, I do not—please help me understand what you are asking.”

Brother Perry eased off the ladder and paced around the work table. “You are a grown woman, Jane. No longer a foundling in need of refuge. If you wish to remain here at Stonyhurst, you will be expected to take orders.”

She sighed. That was all. Before she could agree, Brother Perry cut her off.

“But you would no longer be allowed to work as my assistant. You would no longer be allowed access to the observatory.”

Her blood turned to ice. “But, why?”

“As a sister your duty would be to the abbey and your superiors, just as I serve the abbot. You would be a supplicant, and, for some years, have no choice in your use of the hours.” Brother Perry turned to her, his eyes bright and watering as though blinded by the sun. 

Jane began to shake, twisting the rag in her hands. “And, if I leave? Where would I go?”

He took her gently by the arms. “Selvig is a good man, and he needs an assistant. He admires your work and is a gentleman. He can help you find your way in the world and society, or, in time perhaps, return you to us.” Brother Perry touched her cheek. “God forgive me but I cannot allow the church to place a bushel basket over such a light. I pray you will forgive me for keeping you so long with me, but I feared this would happen. It is only surprising that we’ve had so many years.” 

Jane began to cry, but knew it was true. She was alone at the abbey—only a few kitchen staff were women and they were all matrons and widows who cared for the foundlings. The maids were young and never stayed long-- often married and gone before Jane knew them well enough to recall their full names.

“How long?” She asked, wiping her face, smearing black grease on her cheek.

“In three days, when the transit is over and Selvig departs, you will stay or leave.” Brother Perry looked Jane over and shook his head fondly. She was as much a daughter as he could imagine, having grown up quite before his eyes these many years. There was still a touch of the child about her, with her braid and the black smudge on her cheek, despite her pretty face and intelligent gaze. She would be magnificent no matter what she chose, but a choice without knowledge was no choice at all. 

He reached for a clean cloth and cleared the thick emotion from his throat. “Whatever you choose, you’d better go clean your face. You look like a chimney sweep.”

…

Jane had finished rolling the papers tracking Venus’s movement across the skies in leather and tied off the lashings to secure them when Father Perry returned from prayers.

“He wants to see you.”

Jane did not need to ask who. She handed the rolls to one of Selvig’s party and dusted off her dress. The walk from the observatory to the Abbott’s chambers was not especially long, but long enough to think for a moment, thoughts thrumming in time to the echoes of footfalls.

To leave was madness. She was untried and naïve. She hardly knew anyone outside the nearby village and those few were bound in monasteries themselves, tied to their own observatories and orders. She had no people of her own, only the family of the church and the laws governing it. Would she even know how to order her time without the prayer bells to form and shape the day?

To remain was madness. The Mother Superior had little appreciation for the work of the observatory, and though she did recognize study as a calling, she did so in respect to the writings and history of the church. Honorable enough work, but not for Jane. She would labor in service of her new order for years until she could take the veil, and then perhaps be allowed time for studies of her own choosing. 

She could not tolerate that when, mere paces away, measurements would be taken, diagrammed with her own papers with alignment holes blackened by the metal plates she’d fashioned herself. Every image would be rendered by her lenses, meticulously designed and polished with her own hands.

Jane clenched her hands together and bowed her head. Her clothes were roughspun and dull, colorless and flat. She hardly even knew what ladies wore in society, or even outside of a monastery. They were pinched and formed, ribboned and feathered. The only silk she owned was for lining the lens cases. 

Jane had once embroidered a shawl, done in a fit of industry before she was allowed to polish lenses. There were worse stiches, she supposed, but she’d changed colors partway through and rushed to finish. She had a wool bonnet and a linen headcover but no hats, and hardly knew the point of one aside from keeping her head warm.

But, she thought as she turned to face the Abbott’s door, no one was born knowing how to tie a sash any more than they were born knowing the moons of Jupiter.

She knocked, and the door was opened by a hollow-faced boy who scurried out of her way.

“Come in, Jane. Run along and get your supper, Jack. Tell the cook I said to give you extra.” 

When the boy was gone, Jane shut the door and bowed before she approached the great old desk. The Abbott had been quite red headed when she was first shown this room, and gray for many years hence. He was whiter and smaller now. 

“You wished to see me, sir?”

The Abbot adjusted his spectacles. “I did, Jane Foster. I was wondering if you had a spare moment to polish my silver. Jack is a good boy, but he yet has the hands and cares of a child.”

Jane smiled. “Of course.” She went and found the polishing cloths and began to work on a smeared and grayed goblet. “He will grow to learn, I am sure, and his hands will grow as well.”

The Abbott pretended to examine a column of sums. “Perhaps.” He scratched his pen along the lines and dipped into the inkwell. Like so many of the monks, his fingertips were stained from ink, as were her own. 

“Were you in my position, would you encourage him in this task, or to go and return to it when he was more ready?”

Jane paused her polishing. “Perhaps he could learn attentiveness in this simple task, and, in time, move on to greater challenges.”

The Abbott looked at her over his spectacles. “And would Jack return from those challenges, or would he find rewards elsewhere?”

Jane set the freshly gleaming goblet down in front of the Abbott for his inspection. “I believe that would depend on Jack but, if I may say so, I think he would probably come and make sure all was in good repair no matter how well or ill-suited his new surroundings were.”

Creases around the corners of the Abbott’s eyes deepened as he dropped his quill and sat back in his chair. “Mother Superior informs me that a recent supplicant has joined the order and left her with a rather large and handsome trunk she has no use for. You will find it somewhere near your cell. If you know of anyone who might have need of it, please make sure it reaches them. Mother Superior also mentioned that there may be some clothes left there, so do the same for those as well.”

He hauled himself from his chair took her hands and said a prayer, then touched her forehead in blessing before shuffling away to supper.

Jane was careful not to miss a single curve or shape in his silver, and left the pieces arranged carefully on his desk.

…

Brother Perry struggled to maintain his composure when Jane appeared at the gates, dressed in a dark travelling dress of quality wool. Her new trunk, a fine piece of luggage indeed, was already loaded on the carriage alongside those of Mr. Selvig and his party. The others and the rest of their gear would travel in a second carriage.

“Do not forget your gloves. I would not have you without your good gloves to do your work.”

Jane swiped her eyes. “They are in the cases, Brother.”

“Have you the fine grit? It can be hard to find and prepare, and I have plenty. Eric wants you to have what you need.”

“I have enough.”

Brother Perry took her hands and held them tightly. “Have you had your breakfast?” he asked softly.

Jane squeezed back and let her tears fall. “I could not eat.”

Before she knew it, Jane was wrapped in Brother Perry’s strong arms. “May the Lord bless and keep you, child. Sit Deo mentis vestrae. Be mindful of learning and reflect on your past.”

Jane clung to him. “I will. And I’ll write as soon as I arrive. I kept a pen and paper and they are on the very top of my things.”

Brother Perry released her and Jane bowed to receive his blessing, then was embraced by the other assistants and servants of the abbey.   
They all hurried back inside to flee the biting chill, but the Abbott and Brother Perry remained outside, holding their hands in their sleeves against the cold wind. She drank in the old stones and the wooden doors and multicolored windows of her home as long as she could.

Mr. Selvig called gently from the carriage. “If we are to meet the train, we must go now.”

Jane climbed into the carriage, and waved out of the window until the top of the tall chapel was eclipsed by the frosty hills. Selvig said nothing, but handed her a handkerchief when she slumped against the side of the carriage, shedding silent tears.

.

Mr. Selvig owned two homes, one in town and one in the country. He was a gentleman with income and kept a small staff, less than he could afford, as he preferred a quiet household to a bustling one.

“It’s rather hard to work when the house buzzes all the time,” he explained.

Jane shrugged. She had no idea what having servants was like, and those in the abbey never came to the observatory. “We paused our work for prayers, but little else. The assistants and I cleaned and kept the observatory.” Jane thought for a moment. “That may be why it looked like the pigs had been let loose in there.”

Selvig tipped his head back and laughed. “When you see mine, modest as it is, you will see why I need your help.”

.

The train ride made Jane’s legs and spine feel like they were made of jelly. The carriage ride after left her bruised and sore. She clung to the coachman’s hand as she hobbled out, then shook the creases from her dress and got her first look at the house.

It was no less than an estate. Selvig had spoken of it as if it were a cottage, but Jane could see there were two wings added to the main house in front, and quite possibly another in back. A line of staff filed out of the front doors, and Selvig greeted them all in turn. When he reached the end, where a man and woman stood, he motioned for her to join him.

“Mr. Jarvis, Mrs. Potts, I would like to introduce Miss Jane Foster. She will be assisting me with the observatory. Miss Foster, Mr. Jarvis and Mrs. Potts are at your disposal. Is a room ready?”

“Of course, sir. I’ll send tea and something to eat once you’re settled.” Mrs. Potts patted Jane on the shoulder. “Welcome home, my dear. Let’s get you inside before you freeze!”

.

The observatory was, as Selvig had mentioned, less equipped than that of Stonyhurst, but he had a decent telescope and was building another. As an early Christmas gift, Jane had the groundskeeper build a large, heavy worktable to replace the flimsy potting table for the workroom and then she organized the area for work rather than appeal. Here and there, a few treasures were unearthed from the piles and boxes, and Jane was able to create a serviceable weather station. An excellent set of prisms caught her eye, and she cleaned and set them all in new cases but one. A particularly fine leaded crystal with a viciously chipped edge became her favorite knick knack.

While the house was quiet, Jane frequently found herself wishing for the drifting echo of chants or the clamor of students. It wasn’t a lack of focus or the dramatic changes in her surroundings she found a challenge, but the very atmosphere. Like the air lacked some vital element and, though the energy built, it failed to crack with lightning and thunder. 

Perhaps it was the emptiness of the rooms, the lack of hushed murmurs, or the air of devotion, be it to pursuit of knowledge or knowledge of the higher power. Jane’s ears ached for the hum of distant chants, the scratch of quills, and shuffling steps on stone. Even the sound of another working nearby. She hummed to fill the void.

She missed home.

It was nearing Christmas by the time she had learned the names of the staff, from Mr. Banner the gardener and Mr. Jarvis’s sons, who worked the stables and grounds, to Natalie the maid and Mr. Barton, the chef.

In the first week after her arrival, Jane helped Mr. Selvig address letters of invitation to a Christmas party, and the replies arrived soon after. 

Over a supper of stewed rabbit and potatoes, Selvig acquainted Jane with the names of the guest list.

“We shall be a small but intrepid party for Christmas, Jane. A few fellows from the Royal Society, one or two former assistants as well.” Selvig scanned the papers and tossed them aside as he read off the guests, until he reached one particularly rich page of thick ivory paper.

“Well, this is a surprise. Do you recall the Odinsons, Jane?”

The potato she was chewing grew suddenly dry and sticky. “A father and two sons?”

Mr. Selvig nodded. “And it seems his wife, Freya, will also be joining us. She does not often leave their estate as his health has left her master in all but name. This is quite an honor and we shall have to rise to the occasion!”

While Selvig called Mr. Jarvis in to consult, Jane took a large mouthful of water to push the potato down. Her mind shied away from the angel and the crow and instead imagined the kind of woman who would be married to the gruff and imposing Mr. Odinson. In particular, a woman who could also run an estate. 

In her weeks with Selvig, she’d observed that while his nights were often spent with the telescope, his days were filled directing his affairs with his stewart, and managing the household with Mr. Jarvis. If the Odinson’s wealth was such that they could afford patronage to the sciences, then their estate must be far larger.

Such a woman would be impressive.

“Very good, sir. Mr. Barton and I will organize menus for you to consider by the end of the week. How many ladies are we expecting?”

Selvig flipped through the letters. “Two. A Miss Lewis and Mrs. Odinson.”

“Very good, sir. We’ll freshen the west rooms, then.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jarvis. A lifesaver as always.”

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Selvig. You’ll be thanking me with a nice bottle of sherry.”

…

Jane’s hands were still red with cold from working in the observatory when she started to dress hurriedly. 

Natalie tutted and nudged Jane’s hands away. “It may come as a surprise, miss, but the gentlemen are expected to wait on you, not the other way ‘round.”

Jane sighed. “Not these. The Odinsons are generous supporters of our work and that of other astronomers. I want to show them how much their patronage can accomplish.”

“You’ll impress them more if you’re calm and poised, miss.” Natalie finished fastening the buttons on the dress, one of several dresses and gowns Mrs. Potts had ordered for her. Then she fished in her pocket and drew out a handful of hairpins. “Now, let’s see to that hair.”

“That’s a hideous waste of time,” Jane huffed, then flicked at a bit of lace on her sleeve. “And this is ridiculous. Why could I possibly need four day gowns, three evening gowns, a formal dinner gown and a ball gown? I’ve only got one body!”

Natalie finished removing the careless braid from Jane’s hair and began to brush. “That may have been true before you came here, but you’re Mr. Selvig’s ward, not a servant. You represent him, his work, and the household. He’s proud of what’s up here,” she tapped Jane’s temple with the handle of the hairbrush, “but you’re also the lady of the house, like it or no, so be a credit to us.”

The thought had not occurred to Jane until that moment. At the monastery, she’d been able to attend to her work fully, all else was an afterthought. The monies that helped to support the observatory had been procured somehow. Was this the somehow?

Jane held her neck firm as Natalie started to form her hair into sections. “Natalie, does Mr. Selvig often meet with patrons?”

“Very. Sometimes here, sometimes in London. Usually up late into the night, stargazing. Mr. Jarvis always waits on them and sleeps in the day after, but that’s how it’s done. Shows them the latest work and thanks them for their continued interest.”

The first in what promised to be scores of pins slid against Jane’s scalp, and she settled into the chair. “Thank you Natalie. I think I understand.”

“Happy to help, miss. Now you sit tight and think about your work while I think about mine. The carriages will be here before long and we’ve got a big day ahead.”

…

As Natalie had predicted, the carriages arrived no more than an hour later, and Jane was able to rise calmly from a chair where she had been reviewing Selvig’s planned observations for the night. Mr. Odinson liked the mechanical aspect of telescope work, and Jane hoped the new, half built model would capture his attention. She was unlikely to be helpful, as she did not speak Norwegian. 

At least one of his sons spoke English, though. 

Momentarily flustered, Jane quickly set down the papers and smoothed her dress. It was sturdy as afternoon dresses went, but she would enjoy it while she could, for the evening gown she had to wear later would be far more challenging.

…

The first carriages brought Mr. Selvig’s former assistants, eager to see their mentor and his most recent work. Mr. Andrew Lewis and his sister Miss Darcy Lewis talked of their journey and happily greeted Jane like she was a long-lost cousin. Not long after they settled, Mr. Richard Dowd arrived. Dowd and Lewis immediately began to talk of their work, leaving Miss Lewis alone.

Jane nearly followed the men as they walked toward the observatory, but remembered what Natalie had told her. She veered to the bell instead and rang.

“Miss Lewis, won’t you join me for tea?”

“Only if I can drink it standing, Miss Foster. If I sit for a minute longer I shall be cut in half by my laces.”

Jane, caught off guard, stared at Miss Lewis as Natalie brought in the tray into the small sitting room. When Miss Lewis neither apologized nor seemed ashamed of her comment, Jane calmly thanked Natalie before pouring. When the door closed behind Natalie, Jane smiled.

“Someone should remind corset-makers that the whales wear their bones on the inside, don’t you think, Miss Lewis?”

Miss Lewis tilted her head, then held up her teacup. “I insist that you call me Darcy.”

Jane tapped her teacup against Darcy’s. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Darcy. I’m Jane.”

…

Half an hour passed in giddy delight for Jane as she and Darcy chatted about anything that entered their heads from Jane’s questions about fashion to Darcy’s curiosity about the monastery.

“The convent and hospital was on the other side of the big church. The brother’s cells surrounded the chapel, and the staff and kitchens in a small wing opposite. The school and students were in the furthest wing. It was a good thing, or no work would ever have got done.”

Darcy poured herself a third cup. “You’d have to bar the kitchen door or there’d be nothing left at supper.”

Jane snickered. “Or breakfast. No one went hungry, but there was no room for gluttony.” Jane glanced at the tea tray. “It’s taken some getting used to, not living like that.”

Darcy nodded, stirring in her milk. “I imagine so. But you still work? My brother Andrew said you’re Erik’s new assistant.”

“I am. At least, that’s how I’ve taken to the work. I honestly don’t see him much. I think he’s been content to let me be as long as he gets to look through the telescope and examine work when he wishes.”

“You must be quite handy, then. Would that we all could have such hobbies as he does.”

“What do you do? I mean, how do you pass your time?”

Darcy drained her tea and straightened her sleeves. “I am a member of a particular ladies’ society, and I spend my spare time being courted by a few men who aren’t bothered too much by it.”

“That sounds… complicated.”

“It’s not, really,” Darcy said as she finally sat. “And one of my suitors will be in the House of Lords one day, so he’s currently my favorite.”

Jane was silent. 

Darcy set her cup on the table. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shock you, but in our situation, we have to make these kinds of plans.”

“Actually,” Jane frowned thoughtfully, “I was thinking how much more sense that makes than all the love poems I used to like.”

“When did you read love poems?”

Jane shrugged. “Before the brothers taught me calculus.”

“Now that sounds complicated.”

The ladies laughed and at that moment, as Jane’s eyes were clouded with mirth, a great scuffle came from the entry and Jane and Darcy rose.

“That must be the Odinsons.” Jane said, nervously smoothing her dress. As she willed herself into dignified stillness, Darcy hopped up from her seat, opened the door a crack, and unselfconsciously watched the action.

…

The Odinsons retreated to their rooms, in deference to the elder Odinson’s sensitive health, to rest and dress for dinner. Darcy excused herself to do the same, promising to meet with Jane later, as did the rest of the party.

Jane found herself, blessedly perhaps, alone for a few hours. Natalie had prepared her evening dress much earlier and it would hardly take any time to prepare, so she was to be left quite to her own devices for nearly two hours. 

The house was very quiet in spite of the great number of extra people in it. The feeling was familiar and comforting, like all the years living amongst the silent faithful. Jane plucked her favorite shawl from her chair and left her rooms for the observatory. The rustles and murmurs from behind doors made a pleasant backdrop to her walk and it took little effort to recall the sound of chanting that once rang in her ears. Jane hummed a breathy memory of a benediction and wrapped her shawl over her shoulders.

She was still adjusting to the winds and airs of Selvig’s property, and so every night she liked to check the weather. Snow flurries earlier in the day had given way to crisp, still air and if their luck held, it would stay that way for the duration of the visit. Jane made quick notes and decided it was worth it to check the skies.

Cold as it was, the lack of wind and fog made the night tolerable for a brisk walk. No piles of clouds threatened in the distance, and just the slightest breeze rendered the calm air benign rather than stifling. 

Jane turned back to the house, her breath forming soft, thick curls as she sang bits of prayer to the stars. She latched the heavy door to the observatory and climbed the stairs until she was in the workroom again. Jane lifted her pencil to record the temperature and winds.

“I don’t recall you singing at the monastery.”

Jane jumped, knocking papers from their neat piles and upending her pencil cup as she whirled to face the intruder.

The crow chuckled as Jane spluttered. “You shouldn’t do that. I was working.”

“So was I.” He held up a thick ledger book, then bent to pick up her scattered pencils. “I’m very sorry, Miss Foster.” He offered her the pencils in his outstretched hands.

Jane narrowed her eyes, then roughly took the pencils and deposited them back in their place. “You’ve called me by name twice now, and I do not know yours.”

“I have a rather excellent memory,” he said.

“I’m not in the habit of being ignorant,” Jane said stiffly.

He raised an amused eyebrow. “You don’t appear to be in a habit at all.” He frowned at himself, then bowed slightly. “Forgive me. I am Loki Odinson, youngest of the Odinson family. Brother to Thor Odinson.”

“What do you do, Mr. Odinson?”

He turned his head and laughed, as if to an audience. “Can you not guess?” He set the ledger down heavily. “I am in business with my father and brother. My brother is heir, but I arrange the partnerships and forge our acquisitions. One day, when my father is gone, I will receive a charming position with obscene amounts of money and little authority. What, may I ask, do you do?”

Jane blinked, momentarily silenced by the bitterness in Loki Odinson’s words. “I—I maintain Mr. Selvig’s telescopes. I record observations as needed, consult with him as to their significance, and maintain some correspondence with collaborating observatories.”

There, Jane thought. That should suffice.

Loki Odinson’s brow shifted in thought. “I was given to understand that you conducted your own inquiries.”

“No—that is, not as such.” Jane opened her mouth to explain but closed it again to think. 

Those odd eyes watched her intently, but he did not prompt. 

Jane wrestled with the words. “For the moment, I am content to support Mr. Selvig.”

Loki Odinson neither smiled nor sneered, but remained fixed and still. “I believe I understand very well. My apologies for disturbing you. I will find another quiet corner for my work.” 

Jane stood at the work table arranging her pencils in their shabby cup as Loki Odinson approached and stood very close for a moment, two. She could have told him of the library, or the second sitting room, where she liked to read, or the little alcove by the stair, but she remained quiet, trying to settle her instruments. 

He retrieved his heavy ledger and stepped back. “Miss Foster, until dinner.” 

“Mr. Odinson.” 

…

A mix of Norwegian and English seasoned the evening meal’s conversations as Erik Selvig and the elder Mr. Odinson, attended by Mrs. Odinson and Loki, who offered occasional translations of relevant bits to the astronomers who sat nearby. 

At the other end of the table, Jane nibbled absently at her dinner, chatting amiably with Darcy and, much to her surprise, the golden angel Thor Odinson. 

At her left, Thor leaned forward and Darcy did the same. “My brother thinks we should expand our manufacturing. He thinks we depend too much on foreign craftsmen.”

Darcy nodded. “That requires skilled and educated labor. I hope he’s prepared to cultivate such things.”

Thor lifted his wine glass. “He’s already looking to create trade schools. He’s gained an interest in education these last few months.”

Jane stilled her fork. “Learning is the path to higher thought,” she said reflexively. Thor looked at her with a nod, then waited expectantly. Jane forced herself to meet his gaze. “I cannot speak for all, but at Stonyhurst, the brothers taught that it is through education, through knowledge, that we illuminate the glory of God.”

The table had quieted. Jane bravely continued. “Armed with knowledge, we can then discern the world around us and share our discoveries. When we learn, we are then obligated to teach our brothers and sisters.”

A slight scuff and words in Norwegian at the head of the table. 

Thor grinned. “Knowledge is a great thing, so long as ships still sail and the tradewinds blow.”

Jane inclined her head in acknowledgement. “Very true, but who designs the ships and tracks the winds I wonder?”

Darcy snorted.

Clipped words from Mr. Odinson. Loki and Thor both rose, their place settings switched by swift attendants. When the parties were settled again, Jane nudged at her food and waited until the head of the table was again murmuring with discussion.

“I’m sorry. I did not mean to offend,” she spoke softly.

Loki leaned fractionally closer. “You didn’t. But you certainly got his attention.”

“I said nothing of note.”

“You underestimate the power of words.”

“Not all words are worthy of esteem.”

Loki paused. “That depends on the speaker.”

Jane gripped her fork and strained to keep her voice low. “I cannot tell if you intend to mock or compliment me.”

Before Loki could answer, a low gasp rose from the head of the table, interrupting the constant hum of conversation there. Thor was staring at his plate intently as Erik Selvig turned pink, unable to speak. Mr. Odinson looked at him expectantly as Mrs. Odinson looked mildly amused.

Loki slipped his knife into the butter, keeping his attention on Jane. “Rude, isn’t he?”

Jane followed his lead, attending to her linens. “I beg your pardon?” She delicately speared a bite and began to chew, carefully keeping her eyes away from Mr. Odinson and Erik, who had begun to speak again.

“My father asked Mr. Selvig if you were his bastard or his mistress.”

The bite lodged in Jane’s mouth and she reached for her water as Loki listened.

“Mr. Selvig says not at all,” he translated. “You were an orphan, raised by the brothers. Found to be a remarkable polymath with a particular talent for mechanics and astronomy, you spent many years assisting Brother Perry, and now he has taken you on an assistant here.”

Jane swallowed numbly. It was strange to hear such slim economy used in describing her life. How abbreviated, efficient, and utterly true it was.

A throat cleared and Jane looked up. Mr. Odinson was peering at her from the other end of the table. Erik smiled faintly and the other assistants glanced back and forth. Darcy gave her a wink.

Loki spoke up. “My father asks what you studied at Stonyhurst.”

A deep breath bought Jane a moment to think. As she exhaled, Freya Odinson watched her with great interest.

“Sir, Brother Perry and I examined the sun’s cyclic nature by recording the spots upon its surface and their relationship to temperature. Together, we created the most accurate map system of the sun known.”

Mr. Odinson grumbled and pointed to Loki. 

“He asks what you learned at Stonyhurst.”

A rush of memory and Jane recalls what happens when you focus too much on one thing. When you ignore the connections and relationships between your ideas. How she had been blinded by her own vision. Her own work, taken and published by someone else.

Jane swallowed. “I learned that mere measurements, what is written on paper, may be read by those who did not write it, and that there is nothing to keep them from claiming that they did.”

A chuckle cut the silence. Mr. Odinson sat forward in his chair, fixed Jane with a stare, spoke again, and nodded at Loki.

“And what did you learn from that?”

Jane glanced at Loki, who had spoken gently. His face was a study in contrasts, softened now in the candlelight, his pale skin like the moon through the telescope, surrounded by the black of night. His contrasts even more pronounced so near his brother.

She had known within minutes what the lesson was. That lesson drove her to build, design, shape, and draft. It was why her hands were rough, burned, and stained.

“I learned to leave the measuring to lesser men.”

The silence only broke when the dinner attendants took up plates and brought out dessert. 

…

After dinner, as the gentlemen were served brandy, Jane took Miss Darcy Lewis and Mrs. Freya Odinson to the parlor and called for tea. The guests were tired so Erik had announced that the skies were unfavorable for viewing to save them having to decline the offer. As the gentlemen took glasses of brandy, Jane led Darcy and Mrs. Odinson to the parlor for tea. 

Natasha settled the tray and went to fetch a plate of sweets. Jane hesitated as she poured for Mrs. Odinson, who had not spoken any English. “I’m sorry, but my Norwegian is far too poor to be much help.”

“Not to worry,” Mrs. Odinson said as she took her cup. “My husband prefers Norwegian, but as he is not here…” Her eyes crinkled as she took a sip.

Darcy dropped a third spoon of sugar into her tea and smothered a laugh. Jane nudged Darcy’s foot with her own.

Natasha presented the plate of sweets and caught Jane’s eye. Jane remembered Natasha’s words about representing the household and weighed the impressive woman in front of her.

“Am I correct in assuming you share Mr. Odinson’s interests in astronomy and the sciences?” Jane winced at her own bluntness.

Mrs. Odinson carefully set down her cup. “We share many interests, yes. I confess I encourage him in some specifics, as he has encouraged me to learn of industry.” She took a small nut cake from the dessert plate and tucked it onto her saucer. 

Darcy stared, wide eyed and grinning. “You take an active role?”

In a rush to set her cup down, Jane nearly tipped it over, knocking a silver spoon from the sugar bowl. “Goodness, it’s so late we must all be giddy! Please forgive Miss Lewis. She doesn’t often meet women of such accomplishment.” Jane strained for words and came up lost.

“I daresay she has met you, Miss Foster,” Mrs. Odinson said, letting her gaze rest on Darcy for a moment. “And I suspect she owns a mirror.”

Darcy laughed, and it was not long before Natasha returned with more tea. She gave Jane an approving wink as she left with the empty pot.

…

Jane rushed through her breakfast as quickly as she could the next day. She was accustomed to late nights, but they were usually filled with work rather than talk. As she yawned, digging up her notes from her desk in the library, she was reminded that she also usually took a nap before an observation night as well. 

Male voices carried down the hall from the dining room. There were still guests in the house, and would be for a few more days. Jane wasn’t quite sure what to think, but she stepped past the doorway as quickly as she could and headed for the observatory.

It was cold, and she’d bundled up in her dark wool. It wasn’t terribly fashionable, but the wool was fine and she refused to wear wide skirts near her equipment, even if she wasn’t handling it. An extravagant flounce could ruin months of careful work.

The workroom was cold, and Jane set her notes on the nearest table, pulled up her stool, and took a deep breath. This might be her favorite part of the day. There was no rush and frenzy, only the peace and quiet crackle of potential. It was this time, a kind of devotion, that Jane treasured. Brother Perry had taught her that when her mind was quiet, before the day’s work began in earnest, was when her mind could begin its work. Neglect this time, he used to warn, and the whole of the day is for naught.

A few more deep breaths helped Jane to focus. She opened her notes and skimmed her entries. There was maintenance to perform, a few adjustments to make for the season, but little else was pressing and nothing she was particularly interested in. Even so, she carefully marked her plan for the day and made a note to make more precise measurements of a bracket that needed replacing. It had recently rattled when Erik turned a crank.

Even a tiny bit of error in the angle could ruin a view, and so the aging bracket needed to go. Light needed perfect conveyance, and was a harsh critic when it did not have its way. 

Jane reached for the chipped prism she kept on her bench and pressed her thumb lightly against the edge. It reminded her of simpler, more exciting times. Strangely, she missed repairing the windows of Stonyhurst, playing with the sunlight as it touched the colors in the decorative panes, watching light bend through the ripples and whorls of formed glass.

She raised the crystal prism to meet a beam of dusty sun slicing through the work room. It was magnificent, with perfect angles that could crack a sunbeam into the brightest rainbows. She moved the wedge so the chipped corner scattered tiny dancing lights across the walls, enchanting the workroom. 

What would it be like to capture that light? Move it around? Jane traced the edge of the prism. What would that look like, how would it work?

“That’s quite lovely.”

The words skittered over Jane’s skin, but she did not jump or lose her grip on the prism. She could feel a small smile spread on her face.

“You weren’t supposed to do that again.” Jane lowered the glass, careful of the sharp edge. “Startle me, that is.”

Loki Odinson, seated at a forgotten corner desk, set down his pen and folded his hands. “It was hard to concentrate.”

Jane turned the prism over. “This is one of my favorites. Mr. Selvig was going to have it recast when he saw the damage but I kept it.” She held it up briefly, just long enough to shatter a sunbeam onto the walls. “It casts the most beautiful spectrum.”

Loki leaned forward. “Do you make a habit of taking in strays?”

“It reminds me of the stained glass at Stonyhurst.” She set the glass back on her bench with a soft thud and shuffled her notes into order. “I used to clean and repair the windows. It was how I became interested in lenses and light.”

Loki blotted his ledger and resumed writing. “Do you miss it? Working with light?”

Jane slowed, and let her books rest on the table. Memory came in a rush. “Light is the reflection of heaven from the lens of God’s own eye. If man has been given dominion over earth, extending His own authority, then God maintains His reach over us from sky above us.” Jane paused. These recitations were inadequate. Her thoughts had been pent up for so long.

She turned and faced Loki. “It is exquisite, the way light can bend, break, and be mended all through the shape and composition of a medium. Alter the path and a spectrum appears from plain light. Alter it again, and you hide it once more. Yet heat, the mere manipulation of a wire, can produce it, but this pale replicant is flawed—its spectrum lacks. Why?”

Loki set down his pen and capped his ink.

With her hands, waving through a dance of models she’d imagined and pointing out lines in an invisible spectrum print, Jane carried on through a handful more of ideas, questions she yearned to address, or even say to another soul. Erik was good, but had his own needs and interests. Jane was determined to give voice to her mind as she had not for a month.

“And why may light pass through glass and water, yet behave nothing like each other? How might one harness these media to direct light through a non-linear path? Could it be done with no loss of intensity or spectral component? Could pure spectra be produced, focusing a single wavelength in perfect coherence? What kind of energy could be carried in such a wave?”

Loki folded his hands under his chin. “This is all very well, Miss Foster, but questions are no more than air. I may shout the terms of a contract to the harbor but no ship appears. Praxis, Miss Foster. By what means other than words would you find your answers?”

Without looking, Jane took her heavy ledgers from the cabinet under her bench and carried them to the desk where Loki worked. She flipped one open and pointed to a series of diagrams, equations, and chemical descriptions.

“This is the glass I need to bend light,” she said plainly. “I want to try three kinds, then one solid, one hollow, and one wrapped with another medium. I will mount film to record the light intensity at the emission source and another at the exit point. I will follow those results with adjustments to diameter.”

“How do you know the lights won’t expose the wrong film?”

“Black velvet curtains will surround the entire field and separate the emission source from the recording side. No outside light source will be available.”

“And the light source?”

Jane sighed. “Mr. Selvig says he has strong lights at his house in London. And a developing room.”

Loki waited expectantly. “I don’t understand why this is a complication.”

“He only stays in London when he is spending time at the Royal Society.” With that, Jane closed her book more loudly than she intended and could not help the frustration that bubbled up. Erik, for all his support and goodness, had spoken of the great libraries and people of the Royal Society, but had not offered to take her yet. She did not believe him cruel or dismissive, merely distracted. Perhaps, and Jane struggled to forgive this, he was unthinking.

She had come from one of the greatest centers of learning in all of England, with grand libraries and stacks upon stacks of classical texts, the foundational works of modern science. Jane’s eyes had beheld Newton’s own handwriting. How could she not wish to visit one of the greatest centers of academic pursuit in the entire world?

If Loki observed her mind’s turbulence in her countenance, he remained blessedly silent. Jane raised her eyes to see him calmly cleaning his pen.

“I suppose that is understandable, given the season,” he said casually, arranging his papers and rising from his chair. “And there are some things this country estate has that recommend it.”

“I suppose.” Jane looked around the workroom. It wasn’t so very bad, and she did have time to think here.

Loki’s footfall was soft in the cavernous room. 

Suddenly, the walls of the workroom were covered in shimmering rainbows of light, fractured beams catching the floating swirls of dust. Jane turned to see Loki holding up her prism just as she had, flinging sun through the desecrated crystal.

“Yes,” he murmured, then lowered the prism from the light. “There are some few things that recommend this estate.” He held out the prism to her and lingered as she took it. “Take care, Miss Foster. A broken edge cuts far deeper.”

…

On the last full day of the holiday visits, Jane decided to spend no more time than necessary in the work room in favor of cementing her new friendship with Miss Darcy. Once or twice that day, Mrs. Odinson joined them and Jane could have sworn the woman was actually enjoying herself despite her stern exterior. 

The Odinsons were leaving in the morning, so there was one more formal dinner to sit through, which meant one more round of Natalie fussing over her dress and hair. The previous few dinners, the maid had allowed Jane some measure of say over the selection of evening gown, but now Jane was down to her last one. The most expensive, and in Jane’s opinion, the most ridiculous.

It was silk. It was deep green. It was trimmed in gold. It had a certain holiday flair to it, but was simply so much more and, in some places, far less than Jane had ever dealt with in her wools and homespun. The urge to cover up with a shawl was hard to resist.

But it took just Natalie’s raised eyebrow to remind her of the duty she owed them all. 

“Miss, word is that the Odinson family is pleased to see such fine work being done. And by such a lady as yourself.”

Jane held still as Natalie pinned a curl. “They’ve looked at the moon and plotted Orion. They’ve hardly seen my work.”

“If you say so, Miss.”

…

The seating arrangement was shifted from the previous evenings and kept conversation from growing stale. Jane was not overly fond of the change, as it left Miss Darcy too far away in her opinion. Instead, she talked of the planned replacements for the aging brackets with Erik’s former assistants and asked after their work.

One was at Oxford, examining photoplates from observatories around the world. Jane immediately understood the value of comparing different plates of the same stars. Forgetting her dinner, she excitedly imagined systems of verification that could be shared between locations. After a few minutes of enthusiastic discussion at the table, Jane remembered that Oxford neither enrolled nor employed women. 

Her delight dulled, Jane returned her attention to her plate and absently nudged a carrot. Not wanting to ruin the mood, she forced a smile and looked up.

Loki was watching. He had been watching her all through dinner.

…

A dim winter sky greeted the travelers as Jane and Mr. Selvig said their goodbyes. 

Miss Darcy hugged Jane. “It’s a shame more of my brother’s colleagues aren’t like you. I might have learned a greater appreciation for astronomy.”

Jane smiled. “I’m glad you found appreciation where you have.” 

Darcy leaned in. “You could join us. We all have a voice.”

Jane nodded. “We all work in our own ways. My work is here.”

“I have a feeling you might be wrong about that.” 

Jane did not miss the way Darcy suppressed a smile, nor the way her eyes slid to the side. Jane followed her glance and saw that the Odinsons were exiting the house, followed by their valets and footmen.

“I’ll be sure to write as soon as I arrive home, Jane.”

“Good-bye, Darcy. I hope to see you again soon.”

Darcy winked, then joined her brother in their carriage.

Erik heartily shook hands with Mr. Odinson as the footmen loaded their luggage onto racks. Mrs. Odinson remained by her husband with Loki at her elbow. Thor Odinson shook hands with Erik, then made his way to Jane. 

“Miss Foster, thank you for your hospitality. I’ve rarely enjoyed such lively conversation here.”

Jane felt her face warm. “I apologize if I said anything amiss. It was innocently meant.”

His laugh was warm, brightening the gray mist that was rolling in from the hills. “I’m sure! I believe you’ll keep Erik on his toes.”

Thor took her hand lightly, then turned and rejoined his parents. 

As Darcy’s carriage departed, Jane stepped away and stood by Erik Selvig. While he and Mr. and Mrs. Odinson spoke, Jane reminded herself to begin studying Norse languages. It did not do to stand around dumb.

As if knowing her discomfort, Loki approached, removing his gloves. 

“This path is better, I think.”

Jane turned. “How so, Mr. Odinson?”

He ran a booted foot over the gravel, as if testing it. “It is not nearly as slick as the pavers at Stonyhurst, nor so wet today.”

Jane chuckled. “You were not so sneaky today, either.”

Loki bowed slightly. “Shall I affix a bell to my collars next time, or will a pair of squeaking shoes suffice?”

“You could say hello when someone comes near. Or enters a room where you are hiding.”

“Who said I was hiding?”

Jane frowned. “Then what were you doing?”

Loki bowed more deeply and took her hand. He held it longer than Thor had.

“My deepest thanks, Miss Foster.” As he straightened, he arranged his deep green and gold striped ascot, and buttoning his coat against the rising wind. Loki tugged his gloves back on, his eyes not leaving hers as he stepped back to stand behind his mother.

Mrs. Odinson’s little smile was calm as she shook Jane’s hand. “A breath of fresh air, Miss Foster. I will be following your progress, my dear.” She turned and took her husband’s arm. Mr. Odinson nodded and grunted, so Jane curtsied blandly and did not bother speaking. 

Jane repressed a smile when she saw Thor cover his mouth to hide a laugh.

Loki did not laugh, but straightened his ascot once more and opened the carriage door for his mother. Something tickled in Jane’s mind, but Erik’s rush to help Mrs. Odinson into the carriage returned her to the present.

The elder Odinson and Erik rumbled in Norwegian, all rolled consonants and half eaten vowels. Erik’s face colored and he grinned broadly, taking Mr. Odinson’s hand and shaking it until Jane thought the man might be pulled over.

While the family loaded into the carriage, Jane stood by Erik as he shut the carriage door and said his last farewell. A thump came from inside the carriage and the driver tapped his horses. As they clopped around the gravel, Jane imagined the curtains parted for a moment, with Loki’s face framed in the small window, but Erik’s excited clapping brought her attention.

“My dear Jane! Spring, this spring will bring so much excitement!”

She glanced back once more, just in time to see the carriage begin its progress to the main road. “What has happened?”

Erik took her arm and led her back toward the house. “I have been asked to present the first of the season’s talks to the Royal Society! Oh, Jane, it will be grand!”

Jane’s enthusiasm sparked and was quickly dulled. Why would Erik’s talks concern her? She would be here, preparing for his next set of observations. “Oh, that’s welcome news,” she managed.

“Oh, we will have so much to prepare. I’ll contact Secchi, you write to Perry, and while that’s happening I’ll have Natalie and Mrs. Potts start arrangements for you.”

Jane frowned as she wiped her boots on the heavy mat by the door. “Why?”

“Why, the invitation was extended to us both, my dear. Mr. Odinson was quite clear on that.”

As Erik chatted away, Jane fought a smile, recalling Mrs. Odinson’s parting words. The lady seemed to have encouraged her husband once again.

…

It was late, long past the rise of Orion in the night sky and Natalie’s final good night, when Jane sat bolt upright in bed. 

Green and gold. Loki Odinson had worn green and gold. Touched the silk around his neck. Green and gold silk.

It matched the gown she’d worn the previous night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I forgot how ruthless I wrote Jane to be. ANd no, never haVE I ever done ANYTHING like her. At all. Nope.


	3. Thesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Driven by her love of light, Jane finds a new project. And a patron.

Spring, 1875

A few household staff had gone to London to prepare the house a week before Jane and Mr. Erik Selvig were to arrive. When Mr. Selvig claimed it was little more than a place to rest in town, Jane raised an eyebrow. After all, he had described his sprawling estate in the country as a cottage.

Jane settled into the brick manor house in London quickly, unpacking her favorite tools with the same care Natalie unpacked her new city clothes. Likely more. But Jane often found herself passing over her fine linens and lace collars for dark work clothes and aprons. With cotton sleeves rolled up her arms, she hauled equipment across the upstairs workrooms and opened chests filled with collections of chemicals, gears, and hardware. The neglected telescope in the attic, modest even compared to the one at Erik’s estate, would serve for basic work once she had it in condition, but in no way would allow for detailed observations as she could at Stonyhurst. 

She did not miss Stonyhurst as she once did. Letters back and forth with Brother Perry dulled the edges from her homesickness and returned the sense of wonder, of serene thought, that was so hard to find away from the school. Strangely, now that she was more comfortable in her life, the clothes and expectations no longer requiring so much thought, she missed the learned muttering that had been a backdrop of her life. If only she’d thought to record those streams of thought, the murmurs that slipped from Greek to English, Latin to French, and back again. Half prayer and philosophy, half numbers and observations. It had been a mash of words until Jane read works by the great early astronomers; men guided by a need to enforce order on the skies, believing they had found the key to the mind of God in shapes.

Unsurprisingly, God had turned out to be more complex than a series of geometric nesting dolls. 

Despite the mere months she had stayed there, Jane found herself missing Erik Selvig’s country home, too. Well, perhaps not the house—she missed the time alone. Time to think and plan. The work she did there took little time, and had left her with hours to delve into her own imaginings. It was a luxury she had not enjoyed since arriving in London.

The work here was dull and time consuming. Jane’s evenings and often half the night were spent confirming the observations and calculations of Eriks’ enthusiastic donors and his more formal colleagues. For those first weeks, she devoted much of her day to exploring the cases and crates stowed in the workroom and attic, and her darker hours to copying her responses to send out with the morning correspondence. As daybreak approached, she collapsed into bed, her ink stained fingers cramped from use and the chill of the attic observatory.

…

Darcy brushed Jane’s stained hands away from the teapot and took the handle herself. “I can just hear my mother scolding you from the grave. I once got a smudge on my teacup and had to spend the day reciting her ladies’ journal on the virtues of cleanliness.”

Amused, Jane accepted a cup. “Work is a virtue, even when it is dirty.” She resisted the urge to pluck at her day gown’s trim and thought instead of the crate that had arrived that morning. The note said it was from Mrs. Odinson, but Darcy had arrived for tea before Jane could start unpacking it.

“Ha! Not among certain circles. Smudged lace is a mortal sin.” Darcy shrugged. “After she died, the first thing I did after her services was run until my hemline was a muddy, shredded mess.” She sipped her tea with a little smile. “I didn’t get very far, and after that I never laced my corsets tight again.”

Jane nodded. “I would never have been able to work at the observatory with such things. There were ladders to the telescope, and I had to bend and twist to work the cranks.” With a wistful smile, Jane glanced out the window. “A loose fitting once rattled free and struck Brother Perry. I had to climb over railings and fly down the ladder to tend him.”

“Was he alright?” Darcy leaned forward.

“Oh yes, but the screw had stripped and the repair took three days to complete.” Jane set down her teacup and mimicked handling the parts, twisting their shapes in the air as if she was reconstructing cranks and gears in the ether. “By the time we had the assembly reset, we had missed two perfect viewing nights and after that he never went to bed before checking every part.” Jane paused, thinking of her mentor as he scrupulously wiggled and nudged every set piece and screw, a habit she’d carried with her to Erik’s country house and then to London.

The ring of china brought Jane back. Darcy was half smiling, one eyebrow raised. “You wish you were working, don’t you?” 

Jane picked up her cup again and took a quick drink. “Of course not.”

“You’re a terrible liar. Come on. Tell me what’s got you excited enough that you can’t be bothered to wear gloves.”

…

Darcy looked at the crate doubtfully. It was heavy, well-constructed, and had no lid or obvious opening. “Mrs. Odinson sent you this?”

“Well, that’s what the note from shipping said. I’ll need to open it.”

“And how will you do that?” 

Jane reached into a toolbox and lifted out a crowbar.

“You can’t be serious. Have one of your staff open it.”

“It’s some wooden slats, Darcy,” Jane said as she walked around the box. When she found a sufficient gap, she jammed in the sharp end of the crow bar. “I’ve built and opened plenty of these.”

Darcy watched as Jane carefully loosened the first board, and then began on a second. “Couldn’t something inside be dangerous?”

“I doubt it,” Jane said between cautious nudges on the metal bar. “What’s inside is usually delicate. That’s why the box is so—oof!—strong.” A board popped loose and Jane set it aside. On top of the mounds of wood shavings lay an envelope. Jane plucked it out and shook off the sawdust. Darcy snuck around and looked over her shoulder.

_Miss Foster,_  
_Please find enclosed a series of cylinders and rods. I believe they are made to your specifications as described in each box. A few of your designs were challenging for English craftsmen, and I have taken the liberty of sending your specifications to a Venetian master for his consideration_.  
_I shall be in London soon, and will send word when I arrive._  
_-Mrs. F Odinson_

Darcy grinned. “Oh you’re going to be invited to every connected in house in London. She has the ear of everyone that matters. You’ll have callers in a line to-- Wait, what are you doing now?”

Jane was ripping boards from the top of the box. Once the opening was wide enough, she plunged in, shoving her way downwards through wood chips, fluffing fragrant bits everywhere. When her head was nearly in the box, her fingers found an edge. She grabbed it and pulled, drawing out a long slim box and an armload of wood chips. They stuck to her dress and she didn’t even have an apron on.

The box was finely made, and Jane brushed the last of the clinging wood scraps from the box and wiped it on her dress unthinkingly. She examined the latch before carefully sliding the brace out and flipping up the bracket. 

Laying in a hollow were three glass rods, nestled in leather lined beds. They were so pure and clear she could see scratches in the leather magnified through them.

“What are those?” Darcy asked, reaching towards the box. 

Jane stopped her hand. “Glass.” Inside the lid was a strip of paper, and Jane pulled it free. “It’s… very special glass.”

“Special?”

As she read the paper, Jane’s mouth went dry and she sat down on the floor, the box cradled in her lap.

“Jane?” Darcy knelt by her. “Are you unwell?”

Jane could not tear her eyes away from the paper. “It’s my glass. Mine.” She looked up at Darcy. “This is my design. For my work to study the transmission of light.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

Was it good? Jane wasn’t sure.

“I never showed Mrs. Odinson this work. She never saw my designs.”

Darcy tilted her head. “Who did you show?”

“Mr. Odinson. Only Mr. Loki Odinson.” Jane swallowed as she remembered their conversations. His strange compliments. His eyes.

“Well,” Darcy said, brushing a few bits of wood fiber from Jane’s dress. “You may have found a patron.”

Jane tucked the paper back into the box and closed it. What did Loki mean by doing this? Though Erik had not forbidden her work on light, he was not interested, and so would not have mentioned it to Mrs. Odinson. No, this was Loki’s doing. Which meant he had asked his mother to send the crate and the message. 

Jane shook her head. “Darcy, I don’t quite know what to do.”

Darcy stood and took the box from Jane’s lap and set it on the crate. “She’s already told you what to do,” she said, and helped Jane to her feet. “I suggest you figure out what you’d wear to take tea with her and her son.”

…

Three days later, right after the delivery of a brown paper-wrapped parcel arrived for Jane, Erik Selvig burst into the office where Jane was copying out her work. She quickly blotted up the splat of ink it caused.

“I’ve received a note from Mrs. Odinson! She and her son have arrived in London and plan to visit us soon. Jane, I think she means to set the date for my talk at the Royal Society!”

“That’s wonderful, Mr. Selvig!” 

He wagged his head with delight. “And what’s more, she’s assured me that you are certainly invited to attend. In fact,” he peered at the note. “She pressed rather deep on her pen just here. I suspect it’s not just an invitation, Jane, but a command performance!”

Jane felt her cheeks warm. “Does she say when she will come visit?” The household was not accustomed to visitors aside from Miss Darcy at the present, and Jane dreaded Natalie’s reaction if she had no time to prepare.

Erik glanced over the paper again. “Ah, the day after tomorrow. She’s just getting settled then, I imagine.” Buoyed by his excitement, he stepped lightly out of the room in search of his household staff to start preparations.

“Yes,” Jane said to herself. “I imagine so.” She took up her parcel and retreated to the workroom, then closed the door behind her before advancing on the sheet-draped structure in the middle of the room. It had taken just a week to build the frame, scavenging the crate and its brackets, along with disassembling much of the distillation equipment in the adjoining rooms for the clamps and mounts. 

The sheet was cool and smooth under her fingertips. Jane gently tugged it away from the frame and set the sheet on a chair. The boxes of glass tubing were safely packed away, each piece carefully measured so her mount system would cradle them with only small adjustments to the clamps.

Jane unfolded the paper from around her parcel, then smoothed her hand over the black velvet. She would take many measurements and films here, but before she could begin she must complete her preparations. Her fingertips left tracks in the velvet, and she absently pressed the nap into stripes of black on black. With a flourish, they curved, tipping out at the edge. Four, five swoops in parallels, the last a mere touch.

She examined the velvet, curious at her abstraction. Unlike her, this bit of fancy. Not a draft or schematic, but evoking movement. Wind over a night sky, perhaps. Jane swiped a few more strokes, deepening at points with a fingernail.

A wing. A black wing. 

As quickly as it was imagined, it was eliminated. Jane took up her pencils and began marking the fabric. The drape for her construction would take days, and would not sew itself.

…

Jane was sitting with her needle and thread by the largest window in Erik’s house, placing economical stitches along her measured markings, when Natalie came in with an announcement.

“Mrs. Odinson and her son, Mr. Odinson, miss.”

The note had come the day before, and Jane was as prepared as she could manage. She set her work aside and brushed at errant black threads on her blue checkered day dress and stood.

“Thank you, Natalie. Show them in, please.”

Jane had not dared to think on this, and now her hands shook slightly at the thought of Loki Odinson being here. Would daylight make him more or less strange?

Natalie returned and stepped aside as Mrs. Odinson entered with an air of elegant awareness that Jane envied. Behind her, a tall shadow cast on the wall was followed by—

“Ah, Miss Foster. You remember my son Thor, of course.”

Jane snapped a turn and curtseyed, her face warm. “Mrs. Odinson, yes. Thank you so much for coming. Mr. Odinson, I believe we enjoyed conversation at Christmas.”

Thor Odinson laughed easily. It was an uncomplicated sound. “You had the better part, Miss Foster. Forgive me if I spoke out of turn.”

“Not at all.” Jane grinned, then saw that Natalie was by the door, silently imitating pouring tea. Bless her. “Natalie, will you bring tea, please?”

“Of course, miss.”

A few minutes of friendly, mindless chatter passed until tea arrived, and along with it, Erik Selvig. Natalie brought another cup and soon Thor and Erik excused themselves to examine the progressing construction on the telescope, leaving Jane with Mrs. Odinson.

Jane was suddenly aware of her calico day dress and plucked another stray bit of black thread from it. She imagined herself a gaudy thing compared to Mrs. Odinson’s watered silk.

“What is it you are working on, Miss Foster?” Mrs. Odinson remarked casually. “Anything interesting?”

Jane’s gaze darted to the velvet she’d been working on. “I am finishing a cover for a device. It will measure the transmission of light.”

“A strange use for black velvet, to be sure.”

“It will be able to measure light that passes through a variety of media, mainly… glass. I need the cover to control and isolate the light that enters the device.”

The teacup clinked pleasantly. “Oh yes. The glass. Is it satisfactory?”

“I will know more when I run my first tests, but it seems to be. Thank you.” Jane clutched the handle of her cup. It bit into her knuckle as she tried to formulate the questions that flurried in her mind. “May I ask, how did you know? About the glass and my experiments, I mean.”

Mrs. Odinson smoothed her silk, then raised a brow. “My son had the glass crafted and asked me to send it to you.” She raised her cup in punctuation.

Jane stood, a strange restlessness suddenly gripping her. “Why?”

Her bluntness made her wince. Nature and circumstance had conspired to make her plain spoken and direct, but poorly fitted to the society she was thrust into. Jane began to formulate her apology when Mrs. Odinson audibly placed her teacup back in her saucer.

“He has been in France, finishing a project for the shipping company. The glass was completed before he returned.”

“But why at all?” Jane said, turning. “What interest could some glass be to him?”

At that moment, Erik Selvig and Thor Odinson returned, teacups forgotten somewhere in the house, loudly exclaiming over each other.

“Mother, Mr. Selvig can come to the Society next week! He can present their latest series of measures!”

Erik clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together. “I can also report that Jane nearly has the telescope in working order, so Society members will have another location nearby for proper stargazing! What fun, eh, Jane? We’ll have a star party every clear night we can get!”

…

Jane stood politely as Mrs. Odinson and the golden Thor Odinson prepared to leave, her question of a half hour before still burning as Mrs. Odinson pinned her hat into place.

Thor and Erik went on ahead and headed to the carriage. Once again, Jane found herself with her formidable companion. Her face was terribly warm as she thought of their conversation, but Natalie, behind Mrs. Odinson, ready to assist, inclined her head and widened her eyes in a silent prompt.

“Thank you for your visit, Mrs. Odinson. I look forward to attending Erik’s talk at the Royal Society. Will you come as well?”

She adjusted her hat and looked at Jane appraisingly. “I plan to, provided Mr. Odinson is well enough.”

“I will see you then, perhaps?”

“I’m sure you will,” Mrs. Odinson said, then before she stepped to the door, she turned. “Miss Foster, my son’s interests are wide and varied, but only very recently has he shown a particular interest in glass.” At their side, Erik Selvig and Thor Odinson made boisterous plans for stargazing and what planets would be visible and when. Mrs. Odinson gave them an indulgent smile and leaned closer to Jane. “I look forward to hearing more about your work, though, it goes without saying that glass is rather fragile. Do be careful with it, dear.”

With that, Thor helped his mother into the carriage and followed her in. Erik waved them away and Jane returned to her velvet, pricking her fingers repeatedly in her distraction.

…

The bustling courtyard of Burlington House came into view as the carriage turned. Jane stepped out of the carriage and had to keep from gaping. Towering marble, lit in the afternoon sun, presided over milling attendees, and she could not resist the idea that such solid construction was necessary to contain the volume of profound knowledge within.

What was the mass of on idea?

“Well! We should move along, Jane,” Erik said, patting his satchel. For days, Jane had stayed up late preparing his notes and checking the figures. It was a simple talk, the report of a skilled amateur enhanced by the counsel of academics. Years of her work at Stonyhurst, carefully curated and edited in her hand, would be summarized in his jaunty style.

Her hands were raw from scrubbing the ink stains away.

The entryway was less grand than Jane had expected, but then this was a place of the mind, not a palace. Here and there Erik paused to greet and speak with people, and Jane was introduced to astronomers and enthusiasts as Erik’s chief assistant, his technical assistant, or his calculator. Jane smiled and nodded, wondering how she might have prepared such a talk. She knew the matter better than Erik, though perhaps could not deliver it so well. 

Jane tucked in her arms to be smaller, and followed behind Erik.

On their way to the main meeting room and auditorium, they passed smaller offices, rooms with large tables and desks, as well as the library. From the hallway, she could make out a hint of book spines aligned in tight rows. They winked out of sight all too quickly as she passed the doorway.

By the time they reached the auditorium, Erik was whisked away to prepare and Jane found herself unaccompanied in the crowd. There was a half hour until Erik’s seminar. Jane could not bear to stand in the crowded foyer, and she had not been invited to accompany Erik, so she picked her way though the stuffy hall, winding through the clumps of people, nudging her wide skirts around pillars until she was in the library.

It was so much larger than she expected, an not at all so dusty and cluttered as the library at Stonyhurst. It was not just the few rows of shelves she’d spied from the great hall, but a gallery. No, _galleries_ of bound manuscripts and monographs, tables dotted with workspaces with writing in progress, and beautiful, spotless glass cases with venerable texts inside. A few were laid open, margins covered in scrawling notes and editorial corrections by the same hand that penned the texts themselves. Chairs of every style and size were scattered throughout, some in the open, and some behind ornate dividers or tucked between towering shelves so a reader might delve into a work immediately after discovering it.

Shafts of light cut the cool dimness. Dust floated downwards, undisturbed from their placid settling. They shifted indignantly as Jane approached, whipping into whirls, twisting in and out of their spotlights. 

Jane paused and smiled to herself. A bust of Johannes Kepler betrayed the cleaner’s best efforts. She delicately wiped the flecks of accumulation from under his deep-set eyes so the bronze glistened once again.

“Bored to tears, I suspect,” came a familiar voice, and Jane’s heart thumped. “An anticlimactic resting place for a man whose career began with excommunication.”

She continued to clear away the dust. “Intellectual pursuits were not always so well received.” Her token service complete, she turned. “We have come a rather long way, don’t you think, Mr. Odinson?”

Loki Odinson set aside a thin volume and rose from his chair. “You would know better than I, Miss Foster.” He passed through a shaft of light, and joined her in examining the bust. “Well, he’s much improved. A shame his only company doesn’t appreciate him.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jane remarked, pointing up. From atop the shelves, busts of Galileo and Copernicus, Ptolemy and Newton kept watch. “I’m sure they find things to talk about.”

Loki Odinson looked up, an amused smile playing at the corners of his eyes, but before he could continue, tinkling bells rang out, warning guests to sit to view the talk.

“Where are you sitting, Miss Foster?”

She glanced back towards the bustling crowd beyond the library. “I don’t know. Mr. Selvig was taken to prepare and I was left in the hallway.”

“How gallant,” he said, his lips twitched into a repressed smile. “Would you consider joining us?”

…

Keenly aware of the eyes on her, Jane sat as gracefully as she could in the hard lecture hall chair. 

“So glad you could join us, Miss Foster,” Mrs Odinson remarked before introducing her to a handful of nearby seatmates. Jane turned to the stage, and the table and podium there. 

The bell rang a final time and Mr. Erik Selvig was introduced. Benefactor, amateur, enthusiast. A great ally, a gentle scholar, a tireless advocate. What titles would history choose to give her, Jane Foster? Orphan, assistant, bookkeeper? Was there more?

He acknowledged her assistance and she dutifully stood, an sat once again. How tall was the podium? It was hard to say from the gallery. It seemed quite tall but then again, she’d once had to stand on her toes to see Brother Perry’s work desk. The week before she left Stonyhurst, she’d crouched over it alongside him.

Working on some of the equations Erik Selvig was presenting.

From the seats of the lecture hall, Jane watched him deliver her recent calculations and predicted patterns in a series of tidy arguments. When he shuffled a page, she could see her margin notes.

“How are you enjoying the lecture, Miss Foster?” Loki Odinson’s face was carefully neutral. 

She replied carefully. “Very much. Though I will be more careful when I copy out my equations next time. I believe he’s got one wrong.”

He barked a laugh, then coughed to cover it.

…

The gallery cleared as the sun sagged low in the London sky. Carriage lanterns swung and threw odd pulses of light across the pillars lining the courtyard while the clop-clop of hooves echoed off stone.

Finally, after some separations and reunions, Jane found herself with Erik, Loki, and Mrs. Odinson once again, waiting their turn for the cabs. Mrs. Odinson and Erik Selvig talked, meandering into and out of Norwegian while Jane and Loki attended the conversation at hand without contributing. 

Finally, she turned to him. “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome, Miss Foster. My mother would have been displeased if she’d seen you sitting alone.”

Jane had been about to ask about the glass in Venice, but the remark stalled halfway. “I’m sorry. I meant to thank you for the glass.”

He was quiet.

“I haven’t tested the system yet,” Jane continued, her heart racing a little, “but I may be ready in another week or two, when the dark room is ready. I-- I would be honored if you would come to the first test.” She quickly glanced at Mrs. Odinson, occupied by an enthusiastic Erik Selvig. “I will extend an invitation to your mother, and you would be most welcome.”

Loki Odinson turned his head slightly, looking towards his mother and Mr. Selvig. “You know, you should have Mr. Selvig extend the invitation. Perhaps to my father.”

“Why your father?”

At that moment, Mr. Selvig and Mrs. Odinson both found something amusing and laughed as she took a step towards the carriage stairs. Loki helped her into the carriage and shook Erik’s hand before returning to Jane.

“He inspects all potential investments by the Odinson group. Miss Foster, you may be developing the greatest advance in lighting since fire.”

Jane stared. “Investment?”

“Yes. I showed a glass manufacturer your specifications and he was quite impressed.”

Her hands twitched. “You… what?”

“He assured me he could make all your formulations but I’m afraid he failed with one.”

Despite her wish to express her thanks, Jane struggled to piece her words together. She had never been referred to as an agent of profit before. Knowledge came from places far more sacred than ledgers and bank boxes. “Yes, your mother told me.” Her teeth squeaked from clenching them so hard. “Have you heard from the Venetian?”

His jaw worked for a moment. “Not yet. But I will send word once I do.”

“Thank you, Mr. Odinson.” She was unable to hide the frost in her response. Jane secured her little handbag as Erik Selvig’s carriage arrived. Though she could not describe her reasons why, she felt insulted and did not wish to remain.

She took Mr. Selvig’s hand and gripped her ludicrous skirts to climb into the coach. “Perhaps you should have your mother send news of the Venetian’s progress. I wouldn’t want to distract you from your investments.” She climbed into the carriage and left the window curtain closed.

“And how did you like the way I presented the second series? It felt a little hurried, but the questions seemed clear,” Erik critiqued. “And I am so glad Mrs. Odinson found you! I tried to get back to see you properly seated but the Society insisted on my input regarding some upcoming event.”

Jane pushed the curtain aside and peered back towards the courtyard. Though the crowd had thinned, it still churned under the lanterns that hung from poles here and there. One figure, a sharp lance in a sea of plump academics, stood motionless amidst the melee.

Across the growing distance, Loki Odinson was watching the carriage, watching her. Jane jumped back and snapped the curtain closed.

“Are you all right, my dear?” Mr. Selvig searching his pockets and drew out a handkerchief, offering it to Jane. “I suppose it has been a rather trying day.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Jane shivered and pressed herself against the back of the seat and thought.

Once before she’d been caught in circumstances and found her work claimed by someone else. It was hard, but she’d refocused and found new projects, resolving to never let it happen again. Jane did not play games with her work-- it was all she had. Mr. Loki Odinson, she resolved, would find her less naive than the girl who sobbed over a monograph.

If The Odinsons wished to have access to a new enterprise, they would have to support the science to get it. 

“Mr. Selvig?”

He snapped to attention. “Yes, Jane?”

She sat forward on the seat. “I was thinking, what would you say to a joint star party and trial run of my light meter?”

Mr. Selvig grinned. “Capital idea, my dear. Have you got a guest list in mind?”

Jane nudged the curtains and prayed for clear skies for a fortnight. “I do. I’ll write the invitations tomorrow and we’ll send them in the evening post.”

If Loki Odinson thought he could cow or intimidate her, he had no idea what he was dealing with. She would make it clear that she was the master of her own mind and work, and if her science became more than the study of light paths and chemical composition, it would be when she chose, and no one else

Erik Selvig chatted happily. “I’ll order a ham first thing in the morning, and ensure the wine cellar is still well stocked. I cannot wait to see how your work on the telescope has progressed! We’ll have such an excellent time!”

Jane laughed at Erik’s delight and, for the first time, found that she was looking forward to one of his parties.

...

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider commenting? Again, 'Two Cakes' celebrates the idea that, even if it's unfinished or a hot mess, everyone knows that two cakes are better than one. If you have work languishing on your hard drive, maybe consider posting it, too!


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